


Time Worn

by captainshellhead, vibraniumstark



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Growing Old Together, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainshellhead/pseuds/captainshellhead, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumstark/pseuds/vibraniumstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurence and Tharkay share a quiet morning together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Worn

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this art](http://annicron.tumblr.com/post/132060438080/just-a-cute-married-couple-out-for-a-stroll-x) done by Anni, because I am a sucker for happy old people with old man pains. Totally unbeta'd.
> 
> ETA after having League of Dragons come out I'm honestly a lil angry we wrote this lmao. Wouldn't want to give the impression that the ending wasn't horribly unsatisfying. I would also like to point out that we wrote the exact same ending first, and did it better. Deuces.

Laurence sat at his writing desk, a stack of rumpled letters sitting at one elbow, a cup of tea at the other. The tea had long since gone cold, having sat forgotten too long while he’d read over the letter from Emily Roland that had come with yesterday’s post. He and Tharkay had come in late last night with the letters tucked into Laurence’s coat, tired from a long day in the city. He had forgotten about them, and Emily’s letter had laid neglected overnight. 

Since Temeraire had business in London, he had invited Laurence to accompany him into the city. Though London had come a long way in making its streets accessible to dragons, the parliament buildings were conveniently slow to be renovated, and so Laurence had taken to tagging along when Temeraire suspected his targets would attempt to escape his lobbying by retreating into the inner offices.

Laurence had sat at his desk to draft a brief reply, and then had found himself becoming somewhat distracted in asking after Excidium, as he expected Temeraire would be interested to hear after him, and before he realized it the morning had grown quite late, and his tea had gone cold.

Temeraire was expecting guests today, Laurence knew. He’d had some success in finding an interested party to listen to his proposals on education, and had invited him to tea to further discuss how the issue may benefit men and dragons alike. Laurence didn’t believe he was expected to attend, but it was good enough reason for him to make himself presentable before they arrived. He’d dressed already, and only needed to fetch his coat and gloves from the bedroom.

He folded his partially written letter and tucked it away in a drawer for safekeeping, and then as an afterthought grabbed his cane from where it rested against the table leg. He managed fine without it, but it had become habit to carry it around with him. Perhaps Tharkay could be convinced to accompany him on a stroll through the grounds—Laurence was certain he could make an appealing case for the exercise, if it meant they could avoid getting themselves drawn into Temeraire’s politicking for the day.

A large picture window stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the property, and he paused briefly at the top to see that Temeraire was already waiting on the lawn, watching for the approach of his guests. Laurence could just barely make out the speck of their carriage on the horizon—and that was certainly a bold choice, to arrive by horse drawn carriage at the invitation of a heavyweight dragon, but perhaps he did not give them enough credit, and they will have remembered to outfit them properly to keep them from growing skittish.

He could see wisps of smoke escaping through the top of the pavilion, meaning there would be hot tea to greet them on their arrival. Temeraire’s pavilion was certainly grand, and was sure to impress any visitors he deigned to entertain. 

Their own home was as modest as Temeraire would permit. A snide comment from Iskierka during the building process had resulted in the construction of an additional wing; only the somewhat marshy land to the east of the home had saved them from further expansions, as it was unfit to building a solid foundation. 

They’d had no use for the extra space, so most of it had been converted to guest rooms. Today they were empty; Sipho and his family had been the most recent to occupy them. He had been invited to speak at the university on the topic of his research, and had brought his wife and two children along also. His wife, a quick-witted Spanish woman, had made excellent company. Their eldest son was nine years old, their younger son only three. During his visit Laurence had been happy to learn that they were expecting another child in just six months.

Laurence left the window and turned right at the stairs, towards the bedroom. 

Tharkay had his back to the door, but he glanced over his shoulder when Laurence entered before returning his attention to dressing. There was more gray than black in his hair these days, but the light hairs stood out in even brighter contrast when the light from the window touched them. 

Laurence placed a hand on his elbow and drew him into a short kiss, more out of habit than anything else, and then stopped short on his path to the closet to fetch his coat. Tharkay’s lips tasted faintly bitter, Laurence thought. He eyed the empty teacup on the nightstand. 

His hands were hurting this morning.

The bitter tea had been prescribed by their doctor, a special blend of Devil’s Claw root which tasted absolutely dreadful, in Laurence’s opinion, but seemed to help ease the pain in his hands without the need for drugs. 

It was an inflammation of the joints, the doctor had said, exacerbated by age and likely the result of trauma in his youth. It was getting colder of late, and it seemed that the cold did him no favors, though he made a good show of not being bothered by it. Laurence went to draw the window closed, to shut the chill out.

“It’s a fine morning,” Tharkay said.

Truthfully the morning was somewhat chilly, though it was likely to warm up later in the afternoon. 

“Tenzing,” he said, covering Tharkay’s hands with his own and forcing his fingers to still, “Let me?” Tharkay huffed, for a moment looking defiant. Maybe a decade ago he would have rejected the offer. Now he only subsided with a slight roll of the eyes, an almost imperceptible smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Tharkay spread his fingers slightly in surrender and moved them aside, allowing Laurence to do up the buttons of his waistcoat for him.

“I thought we might take a walk this morning,” Laurence said, “but if you would prefer…”

“A walk sounds excellent,” Tharkay said, then with all the cheeky stubbornness he could muster, “if your leg is up to it.”

Laurence finished with the last button and then smoothed down the front of Tharkay’s waistcoat, returning his smile with more sincerity. He brought his hands to Tharkay’s cheek, tracing the creases around Tharkay’s eyes with his thumbs, and Tharkay’s smirk took on a new brand of sincerity as well.

“Very well,” he said, offering Tharkay his coat and taking his own. “Shall we?”

 

The carriage had stopped a good mile down the road, after all, but only the coach driver was to be seen when they stepped outside. The cooking fire still smoked merrily, so likely Temeraire’s guests had already been invited inside. Tharkay laid a hand on Laurence’s elbow and steered him away towards the gardens. They moved at a leisurely pace, making their away around the house and out of sight of any curious onlookers.

The gardens were decorated with a peculiar mixture of British and Chinese style, sporting native plants accented with the delicate architecture reminiscent of Peking, which Temeraire had insisted would look very nice. Temeraire’s own pavilion was built in the same mode, but to a much grander extent; Laurence suspected that he missed China, and this was his way to tie his two homes together, as they did not often find time to visit with his political career to consider. 

Privately, Laurence found it to be a relief. Their last visit to China had been incredibly embarrassing, and had left Laurence very much wishing to never return, or at least to not without some strategy in place to distract the court from his and Tharkay's affairs.

The Chinese had no laws against sodomy as the British government did, and so Temeraire had seen no reason in keeping their recent nuptials a secret.

The excitement had been entirely over-exaggerated, in Laurence’s opinion. They took the marriage to mean that surely Laurence would be looking for someone willing to give him a son and heir, which had then, to Laurence’s utter mortification, led to a barrage of offers. It had devolved into an attempt at matchmaking which had left Laurence with no choice but to hide in their rooms for a large majority of their stay; Tharkay was only mildly sympathetic to his struggles. To this day any mention of children brought to Tharkay’s face a particular quirk of his lips which told Laurence that he was remembering the incident with amusement.

Laurence walked for a short while longer, and then slowed his steps, until they were simply standing and letting the sun warm their backs. He watched the hydrangeas sway in the cool morning breeze. Some of the flowers had failed to bloom, perhaps pruned too short, but then, Laurence was never one for gardening. Laurence took one of Tharkay’s hands in his, massaging the palm with gentle circles as he drew Tharkay backwards. 

They were hidden away in their own private corner of the gardens, where the terrace hung heavy with English Ivy, and in that moment Laurence did not concern himself in the slightest with the visitors just around the bend who might see them, as Tharkay gripped his hand with all the strength his aching fingers would allow him, and kissed him soundly.


End file.
